


All your dear memories

by Seasonal



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, More of a shiptease than anything, Post-P5D, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasonal/pseuds/Seasonal
Summary: Haru follows through on issuing an invitation she doesn't actually remember to Yusuke. Poignancy ensues. Takes place after Persona 5: Dancing in Starlight, which in turn takes place after P5's vanilla ending.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Okumura Haru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	All your dear memories

Haru stirs awake with her toes pointed beneath her starch-stiff sheets and the most peculiar feeling of fond nostalgia. It's not one she can place immediately, not sixteen seconds into consciousness, but the feeling continues to pervade her thoughts as she slips out of bed, gently dissuades the maids from assisting her with changing into her outfit for the day, and gives her poor computer a sympathetic glance-- she'll need to send it in again for repairs.

For a moment, she can hear Futaba's voice groaning in disbelief and awe, something about Haru being technology's actual weakness... and then she winces when her brush vehemently encounters a snarl in her hair and resolves to pay more attention to the matter at hand.

It's only when she begins her now-daily ritual of wandering the massive house in search of items to box up and give away to charities (her father owned so many valuable pieces that held nothing but cold and impersonal meaning to Haru herself and she was looking to move into a smaller place for university anyway) that the feeling from before coalesces into realization.

The painting in front of her displays an elegant ballerina, bold in her confidently lifted chin and crowned with vivid colors in her dark hair. Her arabesque is lofty, her glowing elegance presenting a subtle image of strength; Haru had taken ballet lessons because of this very painting - the last choice her father had ever wholeheartedly approved of - and she knows better than most how rigorous the practice actually is. It never truly is as effortless as a ballerina makes it look, and she whispers a laugh under her breath at the memory of how earnest she had been at the time.

Had she really thought that her father would take the time to come to more than _one_ of her recitals? Had she _not_ really expected that her father wouldn't drop a heavy hand on her shoulder during one of those stifling social functions and tell some blankly smiling VIP that his daughter was "attending dance lessons, as befitting a young lady of her station"? Or had Haru just been so pitifully desperate to have _something_ to cling to for strength, for her own enjoyment, that she had tried to ignore the rest of what followed, despite knowing her father had only approved of such a choice for the business opportunity?

_You deserved better,_ a silent apology to the painting. Maybe it would be best to find a more fitting home for it. This particular work bears the artist's name on the back, though she can’t place it, only carrying a faint memory from when her grandfather had purchased it. A French artist from the Impressionism period, but she's hardly an art critic. Perhaps someone else could truly--

Haru catches herself with another soft laugh, feeling more than a bit silly at her own slow realization. If it's to do with art, then isn't there only one person to reach out to?

* * *

"Thank you again for coming over with such short notice, Yusuke-kun." Haru beams at her guest, hands folded delicately in her lap. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

Yusuke hums thoughtfully into his herbal tea; he'd once mentioned in Mementos that the fragrance of mint aided his focus and, from his relaxed posture, her idea to serve that instead of coffee had paid off. "On the contrary, Haru. Your gracious invitation has pulled me only from my monthly torment every artist dreads but must persevere against."

"That's... um, like... artist's block?" Haru ventures, giving a start when Yusuke groans in anguished agreement and drops his head back against the sofa in some manner of agonized arch.

"Truly, it _is_ as though a cinder block-- no, a _mountain_ towers before me, obscuring the view of true, inspirational beauty!" He pauses his graceful histrionics to return to his tea, adding a little more levelly, "But please, pay it no mind for the time being. Am I to understand you wished me to look upon a painting?"

"Yes, that's right." Haru nods, glancing towards the hallway. "But I don't want you to feel like I'm rushing you. I just know that you're more familiar with the artists of the Impressionism period and I'd like your opinion on the ballerina--"

Yusuke blinks, sways a bit like a sapling in a stiff breeze-- and then he's on his feet, fervently swiveling his head to and fro. "Renoir??" He gasps. "Or-- no, but-- Degás?! Haru, you must show me at once!"

Before Haru can answer him, he smooths down his shirt and continues, "But I thank you for the tea. Now-- art awaits!!"

It's less of a cue and more of an order, but Haru finds it oddly endearing and hiccups out a giggle before she pushes herself to her feet-- much less dramatically than her friend, of course. "All right... please, this way."

Yusuke's eyes are alight with a near-manic gleam, his fingers twisting and knotting together as he chuckles, low and gleeful. Haru observes this fondly and wonders what additional changes will seize him when he actually comes across the painting, a short distance away.

A gasp, first, so loud and so harshly uttered that Haru fears for his throat. Yusuke closes the distance in a leap, rather like a ballerina himself in that moment, and gazes rapturously up at the painting.

“There can be no mistaking it,” he whispers, exultant. “The bold brushstrokes, the deliberate choice of color to highlight her while diminishing the presence of those behind her-- this is most _certainly_ a Degas work! To think that such a masterpiece could be hidden in one’s home-- ah, no, but no one should know the possibility of that greater than I…”

Poignance, more subdued than his reverence, steals into his voice; Haru hadn’t been there for Yusuke’s own moment of betrayal and his consequent resolution, but she’s heard the story-- the Sayuri, the painting he had so admired from his childhood, tampered with and forged many times over in order to make a profit… and all done within the walls of the atelier where he’d resided.

She doesn’t think she ought to be so bold as to clasp his hand in hers as a sign of solidarity, but a rough thump to the back or shoulder is more reminiscent of Ryuji, leaving Haru with very little options. She opts to step closer, just close enough that their shoulders could brush if either of them moves. 

“As I thought, I really didn’t understand the kind of worth it held to an actual artist… I just thought it was beautiful-- though I suppose it _did_ inspire me to take up ballet until, ah…”

Haru wavers when Yusuke fixes inquisitive grey eyes on her and swallows against the self-deprecation she feels crawling up her quivering throat. “My father and I had differing opinions on the reason,” she finishes, quieter. “Eventually I felt more like I was being used even when it used to be something I loved… and I chose to quit.”

“Haru…” Surprisingly, Yusuke is no longer gazing admiringly at the painting-- when she lifts her eyes, he’s still looking directly at her, a more solemn frown set on his face.

Her laugh is a little too high-pitched to fool most people who know better, and she unfairly hopes that Yusuke isn’t one of them. “It’s all right! Since I was working on packing and getting rid of some of the things in the house, I just thought… well, that you might like this painting, as an art appreciator! I think it would be in the best of hands with you, and to be frank, it… it’s somewhat of a painful reminder, a-and I don’t even know the name, so I--”

“L’Etoile.” 

“Excuse me?”

“The Star.” Yusuke moves, and their shoulders don’t brush-- only because he’s grasped her shoulders with his long, elegant fingers and though a part of Haru warns her to stiffen, that though the bruises from Sugimura’s unwanted attentions and even more unwelcome temper had long since faded, she has to protect herself… 

It’s Yusuke, and he would never hurt her. She straightens from an unnoticed slump instead, and Yusuke smiles approvingly. 

“The Star,” he continues, “displays the strength and elegance of a ballerina who has done her utmost, despite many trials. Her smile still shines bright, inspiring courage and confidence in others. A motivation, to reach greater heights. Much like you, Haru. While I appreciate your offer, I could not possibly take this painting from you.”

Haru blinks, discomfited by his earnestness. “I… why?”

“Because it clearly _means_ something to you. I see it in your poise, the way you lift your chin when you wish for every word you utter to be heard, even your movements in battle. Your understated strength. You carry yourself with a grace that only something you truly loved could instill in you. While painful, it’s still an important part of you.” Yusuke releases her shoulders, gesturing to the painting. “And you would not see it, but you gazed upon it in much the same way I feel when I look at the Sayuri. Therefore… I don’t believe you and this painting should be parted.”

“You…” Haru loses track of the words before she can speak them, and clears her throat to recover. “I really think you’re giving me too much credit, Yusuke-kun…”

“Your statuesque posture, your gentle countenance…” His frown has angled a shade towards stubborn, to inform her that he has yet to give her “too much” credit. “It’s as though you’ve stepped out of a delicate painting. Truly, the pair of you suit each other, and I could not bear to separate you!!”

There’s a strange echo to his words, one Haru feels more than hears. Almost as though he’s said that to her before… but no, that can’t be right. Yusuke’s comments are so eloquently elaborate that she doesn’t think she’d ever forget them. This must be the first time he’s said it.

But…

She looks at the painting, at the ballerina positioned there. It’s all too easy to recall what it had been like to push herself on shaky legs, to dance _en pointe_ for the first time, to feel powerful and beautiful in a way she thought she had lost until Milady had swirled into defiant existence and called her forth to betrayal. 

Maybe… this isn’t a thing that has to remain more painful than positive.

“I feel a little silly,” Haru mumbles, tone heavy with finality, and Yusuke chuckles.

“You should not. I must apologize, however, for taking advantage of your hospitality and graciousness and still refusing your generous offer.”

To that, Haru laughs, louder and so much more sincere. “I hope _you_ feel a little silly, then, for saying something like that! I’m always happy for your company, Yusuke-kun… and you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Ah,” he responds, nodding firmly. “In return, you have gifted me with the joy of witnessing a true masterpiece and granting me additional inspiration.”

Haru tilts her head, still smiling but puzzled. Yusuke, with a low hum, lifts his hands to form a frame with his fingers, capturing her in his sights.

“I should one day like to capture your own elegance in a painting, a dancer immortalized by my brush.” He nods to himself, decisively. “Not the Star… but the Empress.”

The intensity of his gaze prompts a little warmth to her face, and she quickly flaps a hand there to cool it. “That’s-- if you’d really like to, but it might be some time before I can model for you, with business meetings and university…”

“I would wait a lifetime,” Yusuke declares, and again, her laugh can’t be contained with such short notice.

Haru has to stand on pointed toes to dislodge the painting from its spot, and even so, she still requires Yusuke’s height and reach to get it down safely. He keeps one hand at her back to help steady her as he assists, and she can’t stop herself from thinking…

It’s a bit like having a dance partner.

And when she sees the painting displayed in her new apartment (Yusuke had insisted on placing it himself), proudly watching over her as she makes a call to a ballet studio offering lessons four blocks away, it’s one more fond memory to nudge Haru on her way.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end, thank you so much for sticking around! After playing P5D, the conversation Haru had with Yusuke really kept nudging me, though I then lost motivation until P5R oops. I did have a lot of fun researching Renoir and Degas and their paintings of ballerinas to see if I could find one that matched Haru's description in the game and while this isn't necessarily a popular couple, I had fun with it!
> 
> Comments, as always, are loved and appreciated.


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